


The Wish

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU: Of Mer And Men, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BEHOLD, Coastal Catastrophy, Crypto-Enthusiast Dean, Cryptozoology, F/M, For me and for you!, Hurricane, I had so much fun, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Merman Roman, Merpeople, Near Death Experiences, Overly Kind Reader, Past Abuse, THE INDULGENCE OF THE CENTURY, This is absolute nonsense, Threesome - F/M/M, thirst party saturday, wrestlers without the wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 02:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: After a hurricane causes havoc in your backyard, you and your neighbor/local cryptid enthusiast Dean Ambrose are putting things back in order when you notice something odd.[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	The Wish

**Author's Note:**

> !TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains numerous mentions of thoughts about death and/or suicidal contemplations, a near-death experience involving a small child, and allusions to various previous abusive relationships. Stay safe everyone!

The back yard was a travesty. The storm surge had washed a healthy amount of seaweed and debris (including a whole section of fencing) into your yard, and it had all gathered together in a pile on your now half-collapsed pool cover. Branches were _everywhere_ , cluttering the concrete deck and grass surrounding your pool. Pine needles and pine cones littered the area, and sand had crept in through the gap in the destroyed fence.

 

You put your hands on your hips and allowed yourself one heavy sigh.

 

“It was a real bitch of a storm.” Your neighbor and friend Dean Ambrose muttered from the sliding glass doors of your living room. He had chosen to stay instead of head inland like everyone else, weathering this storm (and many others) in his bedraggled little house. “Thought that big pine was finally gonna’ go, but it looks like it’s holdin’ out on me.”

 

“Thank goodness, right?” You gave him a sidelong smile, which he slowly returned. “It’ll only fall down _after_ you call a company to come get rid of it.”

 

“If not for bad luck, I’d have no luck.” Dean chuckled. “Well neighbor, you want a hand picking this place up?”

 

“I would be incredibly grateful to you.”

 

Dean nodded, sauntering down the back steps and beginning to gather together all the loose branches scattered across the concrete. “Could have a hell of a bonfire, y’know.”

 

“Maybe I’ll get a burn permit.” You allowed, smiling again at the excited look on Ambrose’s face. “Let’s get all this smaller stuff taken care of and then we can work on getting the pool cover… _unsubmerged_.”

 

“You got it.” Ambrose said with a salute, dumping his armful of branches into the rusty remains of your fire pit.

 

The two of you slowly restored some semblance of order to the area, overused to the way pieces needed to be picked up after a weather event. After a quick break for lunch, you decided it was time to tackle that pool cover. You knew that the longer you put it off for, the less you would want to do it. And it would be much, _much_ easier to manage with Ambrose helping out.

 

“Alright, so if you wanna’ stand at the shallow end and try to keep it tight, I’ll kinda’ rake it as best as I can before it totally caves.” Dean gestured towards the shallow end of the pool and you nodded, grateful that you had thought to wear your knee-high boots instead of your usual sneakers.

 

Dean managed to snag some of the seaweed with the old rake that you had on standby just for these occasions, the tall man dragging it within arm’s reach so he could grab it. The boards from the fence proved a little more troublesome, and you got a fantastic show when Ambrose ripped his shirt off with a growled swear. “You need to switch? Take a break?” You asked hurriedly, trying to keep from staring. You _may_ have harbored a crush on your attractive neighbor since he had moved in a few years back. But you had left it at that, just you being silly and him being too helpful for his own good.

 

Dean shook his head, sweat droplets flying with the jerky motion. “Oh no, this shit’s _personal_ now.” He snapped. He laid down on his stomach, stretching his arm out as far as he could until his fingers brushed one of the fence boards. “Gotcha’, you son of a bitch.” He grunted, latching onto the wood and pulling with all his strength.

 

The boards shifted, and you could have sworn you saw something move in the mess of seaweed and debris. Dean didn’t seem to notice, getting back to his feet and using the rake to hook over the edge of the closest board.

 

Something _definitely_ moved. “Uh, Dean?”

 

“I know. I’ll be careful. Dunno’ what it is.” Dean said uneasily. “Maybe it’s a colossal squid!”

 

“Sans colossal?”

 

Ambrose laughed, blue eyes lighting up with mirth. “You ass, c’mon. You know I’m dyin’ to find a real honest to God cryptid.” Dean was a self-proclaimed Sasquatch hunter in his free time, but he didn’t necessarily limit himself to the lone bigfoot. He was fascinated by all types of creatures, from the Dover Demons to Mothman itself. “If there’s a big ol’ squid in here, that’s my meal ticket.”

 

“Well for your sake, I hope it’s a _piece_ of colossal squid. I definitely don’t want to think about a whole one in my pool.” You grimaced.

 

“Alright, we’ll hope for a piece.” Dean agreed, bracing his feet and dragging two boards off the cover.

 

You took a step down into the water, doing your best to hold the cover tight enough for him to keep working. The last thing you wanted was to try and clean debris _out_ of your pool instead of off the cover.

 

“I don’t think…what the hell _is_ it?” He mumbled almost to himself, squinting at the mess of seaweed, plastic netting and fishing line tangled together with what looked like a piece of ragged old canvas. Dean moved the last board as an afterthought, heaving it off to the side. “I’m gonna’ try and snag another piece of the seaweed, maybe I can drag it in close enough for me to-“ As he was speaking, the pool cover slipped through your wet fingers. You grabbed frantically for it, barely catching the edge before the whole thing sank. Dean sprinted around the side of the pool, grabbing the other corner and yanking the cover taut again. “Easy, you okay? Here, we’ll swap.” He said worriedly, sidestepping into the middle of the stairs with you. “You use the rake to find a sturdy piece of _whatever_ that is, grab it and drag it closer.”

 

Your cheeks burning with embarrassment, you nodded and quickly scuttled away to pick up the rake. The plastic tines on the tool were broken in a few different places, but after several tries you managed to get a good grip on the canvas.

 

It didn’t budge.

 

“Okay, new plan.” You huffed in frustration. “Ambrose, start rolling up that end of the cover. We’ll pull the whole business off.”

 

“On it.” Dean deftly rolled up a good five feet of the cover, doing his best to hold it above the water level. “You got the deep end?”

 

“No, you hop out and we’ll each take a side. Walk towards the deep end to pull it off.” You began undoing the ties on one side of the pool cover, then grabbed one end of the rolled up portion Ambrose passed you. He maintained his grip on the other end, fumbling up out of the water one-armed and going to untie the opposite side of the cover. “We should have enough play even with the deep end still secured, I think.” You tugged your side, testing the weight. “On three, okay?”

 

Dean nodded, looking a touch concerned. “Whatever it is, it’s stopped movin’. I think we gotta’ work fast.”

 

Using your combined strength, the two of you heaved the cover off and over the edge of the deep end. Rainwater, saltwater and sand poured out onto the concrete dais surrounding your pool and you exhaled in relief, watching it drain into the brackish puddles in your lawn.

 

Dean grabbed a corner of the filthy canvas and hauled the whole mess out of the cover and off to the side. Knife in hand (he _always_ carried at least one, you had noticed), he began to gingerly pick through the fishing line. “If it’s a shark, I’d rather not get my ass bit.” He answered your unspoken question, his brows furrowed in concentration.

 

When the canvas was nearly free Dean instructed you to tug on it and the last line snapped, dumping you onto your rear on the lawn. You sputtered, struggling to shove the heavy cloth off to the side.

 

“ _Jesus-!_ ” Ambrose swore and you looked up, watching him all but tumble backwards in his haste to put distance between himself and…

 

It was a _body_ , you realized, a surge of terror swelling in your throat.

 

“Look! His chest is movin’. He’s breathin’. _How_ though, the cover was full of water!” Dean snapped open his knife again, less cautious now as he sawed through the mess of the netting and fishing line that was entangled with seaweed.

 

You studied the man who had been washed onto your pool cover, inching your way over to crouch at his head. He _was_ breathing, which seemed to be a miracle in and of itself. He had long black hair that was all in matted tangles on his face and around his head, half-covering his features. A tribal tattoo design stretched from his right pectoral down the entirety of his right arm, swirling patterns of spear heads making bands around the circumference of the arm.

 

“Oh fuck.” Dean said weakly, his motions slowing to a halt. “Oh…oh fuck.”

 

“What’s wrong?” You asked in confusion.

 

“Uh…do you see what I see? Because I see something _very_ wrong.” Dean pulled the seaweed to the side and you couldn’t help your gasp of shock.

 

“ _That’s_ -”

 

“What the hell are we supposed to do about this?” Ambrose asked bluntly, cutting you off. “We can’t fuckin’ leave him. He’s gotta’ be hurt, unconscious or somethin’. He’s on your property, I don’t know what we should do.”

 

“Be still my heart, is the cryptid hunter actually _concerned?_ ” You teased once you found your voice again.

 

He rolled his eyes at you, grumbling under his breath. “I ain’t one of the types that think we gotta’ put ‘em in a zoo, okay? Pound sand.”

 

“What should we do if he wakes up?” You asked nervously.

 

“He’s probably gonna’ be pretty out of it. I’m…I don’t know as much about them as I should.” Dean admitted. He continued to clear away the seaweed and fishing line silently. “Look.” He said finally, his hand blotted with red. “He’s bleedin’. And it ain’t from my handiwork.”

 

“It must have been the fishing line. Pull it tight enough and it’ll cut for sure.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe it was a boat motor. Like with the manatees. He’s got scars here, and here.” Dean’s hand cautiously hovered over the tan skin of the…creature? Man? He indicated a spot on his ribs, and then another one further down at his hip. “They’re deep. Or they were, obviously not anymore.” Tentatively, Ambrose touched the line of scales that started up at the ‘V’ of the man’s pelvis. “These fresh ones are deep as hell. Yeah, there’s fishing line all over and in ‘em, but I don’t think it coulda’…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “Uh, don’t move, okay? No sudden movements. He’s awake.”

 

You chanced a look down and were met with the sight of dazed silver eyes staring at you through the mess of hair. Upon closer inspection, you realized that his hair was actually slightly iridescent, the weak afternoon sunlight making it shimmer purple and midnight blue. “H…Hello.” You said softly. His eyes fell to your mouth, his lips moving but no sound coming out. “Just stay still. You’re hurt.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unnerved by how hostile his eyes looked. You felt like you were being sized up.

 

Dean doggedly kept cutting the fishing line, glancing up every couple of seconds. “How you doing sweetheart, you okay? Need to back off?” He asked quietly.

 

“I think we’re alright.” You replied just as quietly. The man blinked slowly, hands balling into fists. “Wait, stop what you’re doing Ambrose. Give him a second.” You requested.

 

“Stoppin’, takin’ a breather.” Dean made a strange chirping noise in his throat and the dark-haired man’s attention snapped immediately to him. “Whoo boy, now _that’s_ a look if I ever saw one.” Dean muttered, obviously having the same issue you did. “Can you understand us, big guy? We’re not gonna’ hurt you, okay?”

 

The man shook his head, trying to sit up. His breathing came in harsh pants, the pain clearly taking a toll on him. You put a hand on his back to help him and he flinched _hard_. His skin was clammy despite the muggy day, and covered in shallow cuts from the fishing line. When he caught sight of his…tail ( _God_ , what a strange day this was turning out to be), he fumbled to cover one of the wounded areas with trembling hands. The scales coating the surface were a golden bronze color, tinted rust with blood.

 

“Easy now.” Dean soothed, the knife in his hand causing some obvious distress. The dark-haired man bared his teeth at Dean, a low rumble issuing from his chest. You felt the sound in your bones, immediately understanding the message.

 

_Back off_.

 

Dean didn’t seem to comprehend as well as you, his motions slowing but not stopping. You finally reached out and put a hand on his own, stilling him. “Wait a minute, okay?” You asked.

 

Ambrose nodded, easing back, and you gently began picking through the layers of seaweed and netting line, trying to carry on the work without needing the knife. The rumbling threat died off, replaced by a hitch of breath and a low groan of pain.

 

“Scissors.” You said suddenly. “Round tip kitchen scissors. Top drawer by the sink.” Dean was off like a shot almost before you were done speaking, taking the steps up to the living room doors two at a time.

 

The merman had flinched again at the rapid speed Dean moved with, his whole body tense and on guard. “Not…” He paused, swallowing. His voice sounded dry. “Not going to hurt me?” He managed to ask.

 

“No no, we just need to get you untangled. What happened?” You queried.

 

He shook his head, rubbing the left side of it after a moment. His fingers came away sticky with blood. You hadn’t even noticed the wound due to how dark his hair was, and you made a noise of sympathy.

 

“You poor thing.” His eyes snapped up to yours again, less hostile this time. Dean came tearing back across the lawn and you fought the urge to yell at him for running with scissors. “These aren’t as scary, I think.” You laid the scissors flat on your palm so he could see them clearly. “Not so pointy.”

 

The man nodded, reaching out tentatively to run a finger along the safely rounded tip of the blades. “Good.”

 

Dean’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when the merman spoke. “He can talk! He can fuckin’ _talk_.” He hissed incredulously, crouching beside him. “Holy fuckin’ shit.” The dark-haired man was focused on the scissors, watching you like a hawk while you snipped and fought with the netting tangled around his tail.

 

It felt like a lifetime before you finally sat back on your haunches and tugged the last scrap of plastic up and away from his fluke. “There.”

 

The merman gave you an inscrutable look, silver eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Thank…you.” He whispered the words, the hostility wholly gone from his expression. You smiled at him and he awkwardly returned it after a moment. It quickly faded though. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

“Fix you up, a’ course.” Dean sounded indignant. “You’re all kinds of wrecked, man.”

 

“I am not a wreck. I am…” The merman seemed to struggle to find the word, clicking quietly. “Injured.” Was what he settled on.

 

“We can help with that.” Dean offered.

 

The mer didn’t _glare_ , precisely, but his eyes were narrowed again. “And what would you expect in exchange? A piece of me? A _song_ , maybe?” He spat.

 

Dean grimaced for some reason, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Can’t say I’ve ever gotten _that_ kinda’ offer. Look, I dunno’ about my neighbor over here, but I personally know better than to _ask_ for somethin’ just because I’m tryin’ to be nice. Don’t worry about the paycheck. You’re hurt and you need help.” His tone was oddly gentle. “Please let us help you.”

 

“No one ever wants to help something like me for nothing.”

 

You nervously glanced around, abruptly concerned for your surroundings. There _was_ a large piece of your fence missing. Anyone walking along the beach could clearly see your backyard. “I don't know how long you were unconscious for. If your...uh, your _tail_ gets infected, you could be in real trouble. Dean, can you--that is, is he too heavy for you to move? We should probably bring him inside.”

 

“Inside?” The dark-haired mer recoiled. “Away from the water?”

 

“If someone spots you, there's only so much we can do.” Dean pointed out practically. “We can't exactly lie an' say that you're a fuckin' octopus.” He reached for the man's arm. “C'mon, let's migrate.”

 

…

 

“And _this_ is why we don't touch people without asking permission.” You scolded, wrapping the plastic bag full of ice in a damp dish towel before you passed it to Dean.

 

“Heh, I'll remember that. First one's free, dolphin ass.” The light-haired man snarked, grumbling as he rested the bag on the fresh bruising beneath his eye. The merman huddled into himself beside the large sliding glass doors, gray eyes fixed suspiciously on Dean. “ _Don't_ look at me like that, I made a mistake. I ain't gonna' do it again. You hit like a truck.”

 

“I'm not underwater. Faster up here, even if I'm hurt.” The mer said curtly, that rumble in his chest kicking up again.

 

“Understood. I already said I won't do it again. Pipe down with the purrin'.”

 

“What is _purrin_?”

 

“Can I interrupt this _riveting_ conversation?” You crouched in front of the mer, who immediately stopped rumbling when his attention shifted to you. “Do you have a name? Will it be bad if we know your name?”

 

“My name?” He stared at you blankly and you barely resisted the urge to gather his hair out of his face. He had fought Dean like a wildcat when the well-meaning man put his hands on him without warning, probably for the best that you maintain your distance right now.

 

“What should we call you? You know, like his name is Dean. What's your name?”

 

“ _Oh_. The calling. It is...” The merman tapped his mouth and then pressed his fingers to your lips.

 

_Roman_.

 

It was a whisper in your head, your tongue forming the name without your conscious involvement. You mouthed it, mulling it over. “Do you hear it?” He asked worriedly. “Is it not right? I've never shared it above water.”

 

“It's Roman?” _Roman, Roman_. The name stuck in your mind, a song that you couldn't quite remember.

 

“Roman? How'd...how does it work?” Dean asked, blue eyes wide. “You touched 'em and now they know?” You were freshly reminded of the fact that your friend was very much the crypto-enthusiast.

 

“The mouth. You have to touch the mouth. It's hard to hear, sometimes.” Roman obligingly touched his mouth again, and then reached out shakily to Dean. Ambrose leaned in so fast you thought his spine snapped, bent nearly double in his eagerness. He went dead still when Roman pressed his fingers to his mouth, pupils suddenly dilated large enough to nearly swallow the bright blue of his eyes.

 

“Oh. Oh...oh wow.” Dean sounded dazed, sitting back down with a solid _thud_. The bag of ice fell right out of his slack hand and his head rolled backwards.

 

“Uh, Dean?” You snapped your fingers in front of his nose. His eyes were positively blown and he stared up at you without seeing you. “Oh Jesus. What did you do?”

 

“The same thing I did to you.” Roman looked unsettled. “I've never done it to a surfacer, never had to before.” Dean twitched at the sound of Roman's voice.

 

“Sweetheart, are you okay? Can you hear me?” You asked, patting Dean's cheek. You were shocked when he lolled out his tongue and lapped at your index finger, drool trickling thick over his lower lip.

 

“Yeah...m'okay.” He breathed, his smile slow and lazy. His hands fluttered up to touch your hair, cupping the back of your neck. “You look _great_.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?” You tried not to panic, but Dean was pulling your face in closer and if you didn’t know any better, you would say he-

 

“He’s more open than you are.” Roman said quietly. “More willing. He got more.”

 

“Oh, because he’s interested in this kind of thing?” You asked curiously.

 

Roman shrugged. “Or in me. Doesn’t matter.”

 

“In _you?_ ” Your voice pitched up an octave. Lips pressed to your cheek but you barely noticed.

 

“Yes. I _am_ a mer.” Roman said pointedly, like that was supposed to mean something to you. “Sailors. Pretty much everyone landside these days is a descendant.” He continued when he seemed to notice your confusion. “Siren grandparents warn us to be careful with what we do. I didn’t think it was real.”

 

“Well I guess today is the day for surprises.” You grumbled under your breath. Dean suddenly rose to his full height. Normally he slouched or leaned against things, so you were slightly startled at how tall he was.

 

“Roman.” He whispered, his voice trembling. “I…”

 

“It’ll pass.” Roman interrupted him, seeming annoyed. “I’ve heard about this.”

 

“Uh, I don’t know if it will or not.” You grimaced. “He’s kind of _really_ into this stuff.”

 

Dean groaned loudly, running a hand through his hair and jerking on the ends of it. “Fuck. _Fuck_. I'm reelin', what the hell did you do to me?” He asked Roman, baring his teeth. “ _Hah_ , that's bad, Jesus, should _not_ be thinkin' that. Did I kiss you? Shit, I'm sorry sweetheart. I'm all kinds of fucked. Why...” He trailed off, cupping your face again. “I never felt your skin before. Was too much of a pussy to touch you. We been friends for years but I ain't...I was afraid you'd get hurt somehow.” He confessed, his expression heartbreaking. “It isn't scary if I touch you, right?”

 

“No, of course not. Why would it be scary?”

 

“I scare people.” Was all Dean offered in reply, stepping back and clearing his throat pointedly. “You want me to get the first aid kit?”

 

“Oh! Jeez, yeah. Top of the fridge. Let's get my new houseguest taken care of.”

 

You and Dean made quick work of the worst of the gashes in Roman's tail, even though Dean seemed more than a bit out of it. He kept pausing to run his fingers carefully over the scales, his face alight with awe. Roman, despite his earlier protests, obviously enjoyed the attention when he anticipated it. You _were_ somewhat entertained by the total one-eighty of his attitude, those silver eyes watching the two of you lazily and his body curling powerfully underneath your touch.

 

“No one has ever done this for me.” Roman said softly, so quiet you weren't sure you were supposed to hear him. “I've been alone for most of my adult life, if...if I got hurt, it was my responsibility.”

 

“Heh, I feel that.” Dean gave him a rueful smile. “Done a lot of fightin'. I got good at the patch-ups, y'know?” His mouth rounded into an 'o'. “So you guys are solitary? Kinda' figured you maneuvered in pods. Like dolphins.”

 

“ _I'm_ solitary. I never said we all were.” Roman retorted sharply. “I don't like your questions.”

 

“I've always been a guy that likes makin' other people uncomfortable.” Dean smirked until you smacked the back of his head gently.

 

“Don't be a brat.” You scolded.

 

Roman ended up sleeping in the bathtub. And wasn’t _that_ an event, Dean watching in childlike wonder while Roman gamely showed him the gills on the sides of his neck. The edges of the gills were frilled like delicate lace, and you knew Dean must be itching to touch them because you were as well. It was a _little_ unnerving to you that Roman slept submerged, but you supposed it was just like you having a preferred sleeping position.

 

At your insistence Roman reluctantly left his tail out of the tub, the white bandaging a stark reminder of the damage done. He chuckled a little after you asked him if he wanted a blanket for the appendage, stating that he ran pretty warm when he slept.

 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got the moon here.” He gestured upwards to where the half-moon was shining in through the skylight. “As long as I have that, it’ll be alright.”

 

You gave Dean a curious look at that piece of trivia and he started rattling off information, “It depends on the body of water they’re most associated with. A lot of the Pacific mer relate to the sun, see it as a life givin’ thing. Atlantic mer orient better with the moon, the lunar cycles, tides, an’ usin’ the stars to navigate.”

 

Roman’s brow furrowed. “You know more than I would expect.” He said grudgingly.

 

“Not as much as I’d like. Kinda’ regrettin’ my focus on the Sasquatch after seein’ you, not gonna’ lie. I head to Canada like four times a year, slosh through the swamps, trespass in a back forty or two. And _you_ just wash up in my neighbor’s backyard?” Dean shook his head.

 

“Would you like to know about the _Loch_ monster?” Roman asked dismissively.

 

“Fuckin’ _Nessie?!_ You bet your ass!” Dean nearly exploded with excitement.

 

“So would I.”

 

You couldn’t help your giggles at Roman’s deadpan expression even while Dean groaned in disappointment.

 

…

 

Waking up the next morning was strange. Ambrose had insisted on spending the night on your couch. “ _If anythin’ goes sideways with the goldfish, I’m not much good to you in my house_.” You had obliged him, a little worried yourself though you didn’t want to admit it. But the night had passed without incident, and now here you were staring at the ceiling with early morning sunlight peering through the skylights.

 

Ambrose rapped his knuckles on the ajar door to your room before he entered, leaning against the wall. “How’d you sleep?” He asked.

 

“Not too bad.” You shrugged. “You?”

 

“Shit man, I slept like a rock. Your couch is _way_ more comfortable than my bed.” Dean rolled his neck, making you grimace when something popped loudly. “Ah, that’s the spot.”

 

“If we’re both awake, we should probably go check on the…on Roman.” You bravely left the comfort of your bed, yawning and stretching. As if on cue, there was a _thud!_ from the bathroom. Dean looked up at the ceiling like he was praying for strength and you shook your head. “Roman?” You called. “Are you alright?”

 

When you didn’t get a reply, Dean turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom door. “Listen up, Manchovy, if you’re doin’ somethin’ nefarious in there I’m-!“ He opened the bathroom door and his threat faded to nothing. You peered around him curiously and saw Roman trying to hide in a corner of the bathroom, wild eyes watching you and Dean through that curtain of thick hair.

 

“Oh Roman.” You murmured, squeezing past Dean to kneel in front of the clearly distressed merman. “Are you alright?”

 

“I thought I was dead.” He said thickly after a moment of silence. “I thought I was trapped in--in--I thought I was dead because I hit my head and everything went dark.” Tears spilled over, running down his cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice. “There was a net.”

 

You felt a rush of sympathy, barely keeping from wrapping him in a tight hug. “No no, you’re out of the net now. You’re safe. Dean and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

 

“Dragging myself along the bottom, trying to fight the riptide. So much garbage on my tail I couldn’t swim, I was tearing up the silt trying to get a grip on it, caught a dock support to my ribs, bolts tore my skin.” Roman continued in a daze. “Where am I?”

 

“You’re in my bathroom. You _were_ in my pool cover, all tangled up with the junk from the storm. Dean and I brought you inside.” You reminded him. “You told us your name.” _Roman, Roman_ your mind sang.

 

“ _Dean_. I hit him. Is he alright?” Roman asked worriedly, reality seeming to return to him. He wiped at the tears on his face, staring down at his hand in confusion and then looking back up. “He went to grab me and I panicked.”

 

“I’ve taken much worse from worse folks.” Dean grunted. “Ain't me that you need to worry about.” He crouched beside you, reaching for the merman. Roman flinched. “Shit, sorry. Ain't tryin' to be scary.” Dean apologized, pulling his hand back.

 

“No no, it's alright. I'm...I'm not used to how fast everything is.” Roman confessed. “What were you going to do?”

 

“Was gonna' check your head over.” Dean's voice was rough, like his mouth had gone dry. “Make sure nothin' is infected.”

 

Roman inclined his head and actually moved himself within reach. While Dean's fingers carefully raked through his hair Roman started to tremble violently and mumble something under his breath. It sounded like, “ _I didn't think she could hear me_.”

 

“Who?” You asked in confusion.

 

“The moon. I didn't think she could hear me.” The _moon?_ What on earth was he talking about? “She listens and I wasn't...I wasn't sure if I was too far away.” He whispered brokenly. “I made a wish.”

 

“You _didn't_.” Dean said flatly. “I know what you wished for, why the hell would you-?”  
  


“I was tired of being alone.” Roman interrupted him, his tone pleading. “It would be better for me.”

 

“You don't know how _anythin_ ' works up here, you ain't ready for it.” Dean protested. Your eyes darted back and forth between the two men, trying to piece together what was going on. “You've got a whole life somewhere out there, you can't ruin that shit on a fuckin' _whim_.”

 

“I don't. I haven't.” Roman spat. “I can't do what they want me to do. I don't _want_ that life if that's the price of it. ”

 

“I get that man, but my neighbor ain't no fishsittin' service. They're too nice for their own good and I’m _not_ gonna' have you takin' advantage of their hospitality.” Dean gritted out.

 

You threw your hands up in the air, getting to your feet. “Okay Ambrose, I'm not going to have you talk about me like I'm not sitting _right_ _here_. You two figure out your issues. _I'm_ going swimming.” You announced.

 

“What?! Sweetheart, you can't just-”

 

“Last I checked, this is my house and I'm an adult. I'm going swimming. I'll be back at lunch time. Goodbye.” You wanted more than anything to stomp your feet, but you refrained. “Get yourselves together and come down to the water, or have a fistfight in my bathtub. Doesn't make any difference to me.”

 

Dean looked positively wounded, while Roman just looked confused. Back in your room, you donned your swimsuit with angry, jerky motions. Why did Dean have to be so _impossible?_

 

…

 

“What’s wrong with them? You upset them.”

 

“They’ve had a rough time, Manchovy.” Dean sighed. “I let my overprotective side get the best of me occasionally an’ it always rubs ‘em the wrong way. I’m a klutz all around.”

 

“Isn’t it good to protect the ones you love?”

 

“I don’t _love_ them, ain’t gotta’ love someone to be friends with ‘em. It ain’t an issue of me bein’ protective, it’s an issue of me puttin’ words in their mouth. Crap like that.”

 

“I don’t understand. Your heart sings for them. Isn't that love?”

 

“ _Look_ , I like ‘em a lot. V-Value their friendship. They accept me even with all my missin’ pieces and…and I try my hardest to keep ‘em safe without smotherin’ them. It’s fuckin’ difficult, but I owe ‘em that much.” Dean waved an arm towards the window, in the general direction of his house. “All I had when I moved here was that little shack. My uncle left it to me when he passed. I hadn’t had a roof over my head for ages. No job lined up when I arrived, no _food_ , you understand? They kept invitin’ me over for dinner. Kept plyin’ me with food, askin’ me if I wanted the ‘extra’ clams they picked up clammin’. It wasn’t even the right _season_. They didn’t know me. _Nobody_ knew me. I coulda’ been a murderer or somethin’.”

 

“They didn’t need to be good to you.” Roman said slowly.

 

“They didn’t need to be good to a hell of a lot more people than _me_ , if you can pick up what I’m sayin’.”

 

…

 

Once you maneuvered through the gap in your fence, you gave the sand a hearty kick and then exhaled forcefully through your nose. The waves were still choppy and the beach was littered with tangles of seaweed and trash, foam-frosted piles everywhere you looked.

 

You plopped down on the wet sand, letting the water wash over your legs while you threaded the strap through the back of your monofin. Slowly, your head began to clear from your methodical motions, your annoyance fading somewhat. You just couldn’t seem to maintain an irritated mood if you were on the beach, it was impossible. Swimming was one of your favorite activities, there was something about it that seemed to restore your sanity regardless of what life threw at you.

 

You eased into the water and left behind everything except the feeling of the ocean around you, the tang of salt in the air. The shallows were full of interesting flotsam, fouled fishing lines and worn shells tumbled over and over by the relentless waves. Mindful of hooks, you started collecting the debris and tossing it up onto the beach out of reach of the tide.

 

The memory of canvas and lines wrapped tight enough to cut Roman’s tail came to mind unbidden and you shook your head, heaving a piece of driftwood as far as you could. You would never understand how people could be so careless with their cast-offs.

 

You rolled over onto your back and stared upwards at the sun struggling through the clouds. You weren’t sure how long you drifted, but you were a strong, experienced swimmer and you weren’t too worried about being caught unawares.

 

Dean and Roman did end up making their way down to the beach. You had to stifle a laugh at the way Dean had swaddled the merman in a sheet to hide his tail. Roman seemed perfectly content, all curled up in Ambrose's arms. However, due to his muscular form it _did_ look a little silly, so you were grateful for the lack of audience today.

 

“You guys figure everything out?” You asked, lazily rolling onto your stomach in the shallows. Dean set Roman down with an _awful_ lot of care, making sure the merman wouldn't topple over before meandering to the waves.

 

“Listen. I know I can be...well, the way that I am.” He mumbled, crouching down so you could hear him. He scooped your hand up out of the water, entwining your fingers. “After what you told me about, all the stuff that's happened to you, I don't...I don't want to be passive about people takin' advantage of you, alright? You're a damn good friend. One of the few real friends I've got.” He ducked his head and pressed his forehead to your own, staying still for a rare second.

 

Roman ruined the moment by shuffling himself over the sand, pausing to reach a hand out to you imploringly. “You didn’t tell me you were a shifter!” He said, clearly expecting the term to mean something to you.

 

“A shifter?”

 

“Your tail!”

 

You slipped off your monofin and got to your feet, wordlessly passing the merman your preferred swimming implement. Dean wrapped you in a towel, strong arms around you momentarily in what you had to assume was an ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ hug. You greedily rested your cheek on his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. He muttered into your hair, swaying back and forth ever so slightly, “Don’t want anythin’ bad to happen to you, sweetheart.”

 

“It’s…you made this. To be like me?” Roman asked in confusion.

 

“I guess evolution will only take us so far, y’know?” You pulled away from Dean’s embrace, patting the small of his back comfortingly. “I like swimming faster.”

 

Dean kept an arm draped around your hip while Roman raved about the fin, the merman turning the device over and over in his hands. “You landers are so inventive, the way you mimic other things in nature.” His voice sounded like an odd combination of jealous and wistful. “Flight, boats...”

 

“Hey, don’t get too choked up about it. We only get inventive to hurt other people.” Dean growled.

 

You elbowed him in the ribs but Roman was already nodding solemnly. “I know. My father told me about the submersibles. I’ve seen wrecks.” He sighed sadly. “ _Lots_ of wrecks.”

 

“Human nature at its fuckin’ finest.”

 

“Listen, _Negative Nancy_ , you’d best lighten up or I’m going into that water and swimming to the other side of the world to get away from your sourpuss attitude.” You threatened, making Ambrose crack a smile.

 

“Sorry, Roman. It’s easier t’ be a sourpuss up here. We get inventive with like, medicines an’ stuff. Curin’ diseases.” Dean shrugged. “So we can get wild with doin’ good too, I guess.”

 

“My family used to be off the peninsula. We would watch the sky boats sometimes.” _Now_ Roman sounded outright jealous. “Sailors have touched the moon. The _moon!_ She must be a thousand times more beautiful up close.”

 

_Off the peninsula? Sky boats?_ He had to mean Florida, you decided. If you only lived in the water, you could see how Florida would simply be an outcrop of land. You dusted the sand off of your legs briskly as Roman carefully used your fin to scoop seawater onto the sheet covering his tail. He was humming to himself, the sound so low it felt like your bones were vibrating.

 

“I hope…I hope she grants me my wish.” Roman finally said shyly.

 

Dean shook his head, a frustrated noise escaping him.

 

…

 

Once you told Roman that there were thousands of pictures of the moon readily available, he clamored to view them. “ _You can see the moon no matter what time it is?!_ ” The merman was thoroughly enthralled with this development, sitting beside you on the couch while you leafed through the different media from NASA.

 

Roman shakily touched the screen when the famous picture of the Earth from the moon came up, his fingers tracing all the visible blue. “We live here.” He murmured in awe.

 

You caught Ambrose staring over the top of the screen, the light-haired man watching the two of you interact with a crooked little smile on his face. “With everything that humans have done, we still know more about the moon and other planets than we know about our own oceans.” You touched Roman’s hair and he leaned into you, staring up with wide eyes. “That probably explains why there’s no concrete proof of people like you existing. We haven’t even scratched the surface. I mean, we only _just_ found out about colossal squid a few years ago.”

 

Roman shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Deep giants. They like the moon too.” He whispered, obviously spooked. “ _Huge_ ones stay in colder waters. We’re lucky for that much.” He fluttered his hands around. “They come out of the dark, like the old ships my father would talk about. Ghosts rising to the surface to feed.” He swallowed hard. “They have so many arms. My cousins, freshes from the rivers, told me about snakes even _longer_ than squid arms. Ana…ana…condas? And dolphins that don’t look right, like a stab fish.“ Roman laughed, seeming a little embarrassed. “They liked scaring me, I think.”

 

“What th’ hell is a _stab_ fish?” Dean asked warily. “Doesn’t sound like a fun time.”

 

“Oh! They have a long, pointy face, and a high fin on their back. They like to jump, just like us.” Roman described the animal, sticking his arm out to indicate the length of said pointed face.

 

“Marlin.”

 

“Is that what you call them?” Roman touched his mouth, and then pressed his fingers to your lips. _Whatever_ the word was, it didn’t sound like anything you’d heard before. “I heard a fisherman yell that as he was trying to drag one in.”

 

You had the sneaking suspicion that you had just learned a profanity in a language you were unfamiliar with. _I’m sure_ _ **that**_ _will come in handy_ , you thought wryly. “Yeah, we usually just call them marlin. Not sure what anyone who actually _fishes_ for them would call them, but there you go.”

 

“Stab fish seems pretty on the fuckin’ nose.” Dean’s tongue poked out from between his teeth when he grinned, his dimples making you swoon internally. _Whoa, easy! You’ve been friends with him for years, he’s clearly not interested in you so just chill out_ , you scolded yourself. _You can’t get all faint over_ _ **every**_ _little thing that he does._

 

Roman touched your lips again, snapping your attention to him. _Love?_ It was a question, a lilting little query. You felt your face heat while Roman stared at you, his head tilted slightly.

 

“Hey, no fair!” Dean complained. “How come they always get to know stuff first?”

 

“I can ask you too, I guess.” Roman reached out, his thumb brushing Dean’s lower lip in a gesture that seemed weirdly tender. You almost wanted to be jealous. Almost. But the breathless noise Dean made after Roman touched him left you a little lightheaded.

 

“Oh…I ain’t got an answer for that.” Dean managed to say, his pupils dilated again. “S-Sorry, Roman.”

 

“It’s alright.” Roman shrugged.

 

Dean put his hands on his knees, inhaling deeply. “ _Fuck_.” He hissed. “Why the hell is it nothin’ to them, but hits me like a ton of bricks?”

 

“I think it’s got to do with the level of understanding you have.” You offered tentatively. “Because you understand more, you absorb more. I hear the words sing into my head and everything seems bright for a few minutes. But the extent of my research was watching _The Little Mermaid_ enough times to wear out the VCR.”

 

“I’ve seen _way_ too many documentaries.” Dean admitted sheepishly. “I wanted to know all about the cryptids, shit that goes bump in the night.” He spread his arms as wide as he could. “You heard of _thunderbirds?_ Holy fuck.” He gave you a curious look after a moment. “Hey, so what’s your answer for him then?”

 

“Uh…” You frantically scrambled for a convincing lie while the two men pinned you down with their anticipatory stares. “I don’t really…have an answer, I guess. It’s not a very specific question.” You wanted to kick yourself as Roman nodded in understanding.

 

“What does it feel like?” He asked bluntly, entirely removing your wiggle room.

 

“I wouldn’t know.” You replied quickly, _too_ quickly. Dean opened his mouth. “Nope, not me. Never uh, interacted with anyone.” Roman didn’t need to know. There was _no_ reason for him to know. You wished there wasn’t an insane urge inside you to tell him _everything_. You also wished Dean didn’t know you were lying through your teeth.

 

You had believed you were in love a few times. Growing comfortable with a person, sharing living space and allowing yourself to daydream about sharing the rest of your life with them. But…

 

But they never stayed. Ever. That was how it was.

 

You could feel Dean's eyes burning a hole through the side of your head. “H-Hey, it doesn't matter! It's different for every single person. You won't know until you do, basically. I know it sounds dumb, but trust me.”

 

…

 

“You told me you loved that guy.”

 

“Who?”

 

“The _last_ one.” Dean snapped. “The one who put you in the fuckin' hospital.”

 

“Oh.” The silence hung heavily between the two of you. You continued skimming the pool.

 

“Why didn't you tell him?”

 

“Why should I?” You asked sharply. “Why does he need to know? We only found him _yesterday_ , Dean.”

 

“I...I dunno'. Maybe he can help.” Dean said uncertainly. “Maybe he can fix it.”

 

“He's alone and hurt, Ambrose. You're so worried about him taking advantage of my hospitality you don't seem to grasp the fact that he's _trapped_ here. At least until he heals.” You sighed, looking across the pool to where your friend was sitting. “He must be scared out of his mind. What if his family has told him that humans _eat_ people like him or something? We're lucky he was out of it when we found him. I don't think he would have been so agreeable otherwise.”

 

“True enough.” Dean jammed his hands into his pockets. “I uh, I should probably head home for the night. I’ll be back in the morning?” He sounded uncertain, like he was asking for permission.

 

“Of course. Another thrilling day of trying to put things back in order.” You nodded, giving him a smile which he hesitantly returned.

 

When you went back inside, Roman looked up from the laptop screen. “Oh! You’re back. That’s good. Look at all these _pictures_.” He said, gesturing wildly at the NASA webpage. “Tap, and there it is. Look at the stars! I wish they looked like that all the time.”

 

“You and me both, Roman. Can you even imagine what stargazing would be like? Everyone would do it.” You agreed, settling in beside him on the couch. He tucked himself into your side, permitting you to stroke his hair while you rattled off what information you _did_ know about the cosmos.

 

“It’s just so incredible.” He murmured once you had talked yourself hoarse. “ _Loʻu tamā_ , my father, he would tell us all these stories about how the stars came to be.” His eyes kept drifting shut. “That the gods had a massive battle, and stars are bits of broken weaponry scattered across the skies. That the moon protected us and helped us escape into the oceans...”

 

“That sounds way more exciting than what I learned.” You whispered, letting him doze. He hummed low in his throat, snuggling even closer. You knew you ought to wake him up so he could move to the tub, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to disturb him. He looked so peaceful.

 

You didn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing you could recall was Roman still humming quietly.

 

…

 

“ _Jesus fuck!_ ”

 

Dean’s exclamation effectively ripped you from your sleep and you couldn’t help the scream you let out, tumbling off the couch and already floundering for cover before your brain could catch up.

 

It was only once you were trapped behind the armchair that you realized you were safe, it was _just_ Dean. Your heart thundering wildly in your chest from the scare, you risked peeking over the piece of furniture.

 

Ambrose had plastered himself back against the sliding glass doors, his eyes wide. “What’s the big idea?!” You complained. He pointed one trembling finger at the couch you had just vacated, drawing your attention to Roman.

 

Roman was laying on his back, somehow unaffected by all the noise as quiet snores continued to issue from his sleeping form. His arm was hanging over the side of the couch, and his legs--

 

Your brain halted.

 

_Legs?_

 

Roman was _very_ naked. Not that he had worn clothes before, of course.

 

He was also _very_ bipedal.

 

And _very_ gifted. You quickly snapped your eyes away from his groin, embarrassed by your own behavior.

 

Dean exhaled slowly. “Uh. That’s new.” You just continued to stare, mouth agape. “Christ sweetheart, you’ll make the guy blush if you keep oglin’ him like that.”

 

“I’m not _ogling_ , I’m…I’m in shock, I guess.” You stammered.

 

“I mean, likewise. Did _not_ expect him t’ be so hu-”

 

“ _Ambrose_.”

 

“Did you guys at least have a good time?”

 

“ _Hey!_ He wasn’t like that when we went to sleep!” You protested. “Do you seriously think I would be on the couch _clothed_ with a good-looking naked guy? Come on!”

 

“I can’t fault you there. Alright. But what _did_ happen?” Dean cautiously crept towards the couch, cringing when he stepped on a creaky floorboard. Roman shifted but didn’t seem to wake, snoring a little louder. “I don’t get it.” Ambrose muttered. “Was he out of the water for too long? Or was it his fuckin’ _wish?_ ”

 

You gingerly covered Roman with a blanket and then beckoned for Dean to follow you into the kitchen. “What the heck do we do about _this?_ He was only supposed to be stuck here until he healed. Now he’s healed, yeah, but _no tail?_ ” You hissed.

 

“Hell, this ain't exactly my area of _expertise_ sweetheart. All I know is that sometimes,” Ambrose hesitated, clearing his throat. “It's kinda' more of a rumor than anythin' else. People like Roman have one wish to use, so the story goes. Only one, for their whole life. It's supposed to be a last-ditch, survival kinda' thing.”

 

“You think that he used it for legs?”

 

“Yeah. I do. Look, he's a _solitary_ merman. That in itself is pretty fuckin' weird. I don't know what he did to get thrown out of his pod. It couldn't have been anythin' little. This storm must have hauled him _miles_ inland with all the garbage. He coulda' easily burned his wish to get free of the trash and pool cover, and he didn't. I'm no expert, but it kinda' seems like he...” Dean trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice was even quieter. “Kinda' seems like he wanted to die, y'know?”

 

You glanced over at the couch through the kitchen door, your heart aching. “Poor thing.” You whispered.

 

Dean smiled ruefully. “You're too sympathetic for your own good. What if he was tossed outta' his pod because he's a murderer or somethin'?”

 

“ _You_ look at that guy and tell me he's capable of murder.” You huffed in reply. Roman yawned loudly and you held your breath in anxious anticipation as his eyes slowly blinked open. The former merman stretched luxuriously, the blanket starting to slide off his body. He waved at the two of you standing awkwardly in the doorway, yawning again and scratching his ribs.

 

The blanket hit the floor.

 

Roman appeared to notice immediately, if the way his eyes abruptly widened was any indicator. He covered his mouth.

 

“Easy, big fella', nice and easy.” Dean soothed, obviously trying to head any sort of outburst off at the proverbial pass.

 

Roman didn't seem to hear him, shaking hands moving over his new (and quite frankly, _enormous_ ) thighs. He pressed down on the skin, watching the way it paled from the pressure, then continued lower to his knees. Roman raised his leg into the air, laying down on his back again and running his hands across his knee and calf.

 

You heard Dean's feeble gulp from beside you and barely kept from laughing when you saw him staring hard enough to burn a hole through the wall. “Pervert.” You whispered, elbowing him in the ribs.

 

“Dude's like _nine hundred pounds_ of solid muscle, don't you dare tell me I can't appreciate that.” Dean muttered, elbowing you back. “I don't see you avertin' _your_ eyes.”

 

You shrugged. “Pot meet kettle, I guess.”

 

Roman looked up, his smile blindingly bright. Dean actually _sighed_ , like a lovestruck teen. “Look!” Roman said with delight, kicking his legs back and forth. He rolled off the couch with a graceless _thud_ and tried to stand. You and Dean hurriedly swooped in to save him when his legs buckled underneath him.

 

“Okay, _whoa_ there hotshot. One thing at a time.” Dean grunted, putting Roman's arm around his shoulders. “Sit back down. You ain’t got the coordination yet, you need to cool it.”

 

“Dean, just _look_ at them! They feel so strange.” Roman said, sounding awestruck.

 

“I’m lookin’, I’m lookin’.”

 

“Hey, I’m going to go find him something to wear real quick.” You made your excuse, quickly fleeing the scene as Dean mouthed ‘ _traitor!_ ’ at you frantically.

 

You didn’t have much in the way of clothes that might actually _fit_ Roman. He ended up with a pair of basketball shorts that were at least one size too small, and the larger man yelped suddenly when Dean attempted to tie the laces at his waist. “Ah! Ah, careful.” He winced, blatantly adjusting himself through the shorts. “This is so sensitive, _how_ do you wear those pants?”

 

The tips of Dean’s ears were flaming red and his face wasn’t much better. You stifled your laughter as best as you could, knowing full well that it would be mean to take pleasure in his obvious suffering. “So we need to get him some clothes that fit.” You said once you had yourself under control.

 

“I guess fuckin' so. I mean, this is the biggest I’ve been in my adult life an’ I dunno’ if my jeans would button around his _leg_ , never mind his waist.” Dean grinned, his ears still red. “You got lucky, Roman! Built like fuckin’ tree trunks.”

 

“Yours are better though! They can fit into tight spaces because of your narrow waist.” Roman sighed enviously. “I couldn’t fit _anywhere_.”

 

“I uh, aim t’ please.” Dean choked. You exploded into giggles and the light-haired man shot you a panicked look.

 

“But yours…” Roman trailed off and you would have regretted drawing his attention to you, except for how soft his eyes had gotten. “I like yours a lot.” He sounded strangely shy. “They look good on you. I mean, I love legs, s-so they all look good to me. I just--um, yours are nice.”

 

“Ooooo.” Dean sang, earning himself a heartfelt swat on the rear.

 

After you made an emergency trip out to a thrift store, you and Dean managed to get Roman into some clothes that actually fit. He wasn’t too thrilled about covering up his new acquisitions, but you were able to convince him with minimal effort.

 

You started finger-combing through Roman’s thick locks when he plopped back down onto the couch. All the moving and dressing seemed to have tired him out, because he just laid there and let you do it. “I’ll have to get you a brush. Your hair is so beautiful, we are _not_ letting it get tangled.”

 

“Why are you doing this for me?” Roman asked softly. “I can’t…I can’t do anything for _you_. I don’t understand.”

 

“It’s not about what you or I can do. You needed help. I like helping. Besides, you just _existing_ is making Dean happier than I’ve seen him in ages.” You shoved away the pang of jealousy you felt. “I wish I could make him that happy.”

 

“You do.” Roman craned his neck to look at you, his face wrinkled with confusion. “His heart sang about you when I touched his mouth to share my calling.”

 

You shook your head, smiling sadly. “There must have been some kind of mistake, Roman. We’re just friends.”

 

“I don’t make mistakes.”

 

“I’ll have to remember that the next time I find you stuck in a pool cover somewhere.”

 

…

 

He dreamed of brilliant blue plastic, man-made color so bright it made his eyes hurt. It closed around his whole body, the jaws of a ferocious beast. Roman had been afraid, so afraid. He was hungry and exhausted from fighting the elements, his tail useless and wrapped in debris. Nylon lines sawed at his skin from every angle, rasping like shark hide.

 

_This is it_.

 

The peace came to him then, the calm of the life shallows. He knew soon, it would be over. The air was boiling hot and sticky, his gills working harder and harder to filter out _something_ , anything. He felt lightheaded. It wouldn’t be long now.

 

He thought of his wish, unused, and just closed his eyes. He was far from the moon here, washed up like so much garbage. It wouldn’t be long now.

 

_I wish…_

 

Roman’s consciousness began to desert him, time slipping into an uneasy haze. What an idiot he had been, letting himself get caught up in the hurricane. He had paid dearly for his lack of care, a motorboat lacerating his tail as it raced to beat the terrible weather only the beginning of his perfect storm of bad luck.

 

Now here he was, beached and wrapped in a garish blue shroud. Roman simply waited. It wouldn't be long now.

 

_I wish…_

 

It was better like this. He was miles upon miles away from his family. It was better that they would never find his body. It was better like this.

 

The stories went that a mer would _never_ find their true love unless they drowned a human. It was a solemn ritual that had been passed down for generations, pod to pod. But Roman just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He hid under docks and watched the humans, he lurked and waited and _dreaded_ the day that a human might stray too close.

 

Then, his opportunity came.

 

She was small, so small. A bright pink bathing suit with purple flowers. The child had toddled out to the end of the dock, squatting to watch the small fish play about. She fell in and her parents didn’t even see. They were too busy chatting with the other adults, the other landers. They didn’t even notice.

 

Roman watched the tiny body sink, frozen where he was in the gloom beneath the dock. Her little arms and legs flailed and struggled; she couldn’t have been more than a few seasons old. Bubbles poured out of her mouth.

 

Roman wasn’t the only thing lying in wait in the water. The lean shadow was his only warning, and in a split second Roman made his choice. He bolted from under the dock, caught the little girl up around her waist and hurriedly turned to swim upwards. Teeth slammed into his side and Roman grunted in pain, bringing a fist down and tearing the ambitious barracuda off of his body. He was lucky he was so big; the teeth of that fish could have easily taken the fingers or even a whole hand off of its intended target. As it stood, all it got away with was tearing a decent-sized chunk out of Roman’s side. And it _definitely_ wasn’t coming back for seconds.

 

Roman exploded out of the water, snarling and then wheezing as the unfamiliar air forced its way into his lungs. He laid the little girl’s limp form on the dock as gently as he could manage, grappling with the slick boards for a moment until a portion of his upper body was clearly visible from the shore. Luckily he didn’t have to pull himself up too high; the water lapped over the dock in a few places. “ _Hey!_ ” Roman barked, pressing a hand to the wound on his ribs and coughing.

 

Her parents came running, the mother bursting into tears at the sight. Guilt twisted Roman’s guts. The father clutched the child to his chest, rocking back and forth. She finally, _finally_ coughed up the water she had swallowed, started crying. Roman still heard her mother’s hysterical sobbing in his nightmares sometimes.

 

He suspected his father had already known, but Roman still hated the disappointed look he received every time he returned empty-handed.

 

“I can’t do it.” He paused. “I _won’t_ do it.”

 

“Then you are of no use to the pod. What good is a family that cannot carry on its legacy? Reconsider, or face banishment.”

 

_I wish I could just run away from all of this..._

 

…

 

You were woken in the wee hours of the morning by someone shaking your shoulder. “Hwuh?” You slurred, rolling over. Ambrose stood there beside your bed, Roman’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The dark-haired man’s face was buried in Dean’s chest.

 

“Sorry t' wake you, sweetheart. He had a nightmare. Said he needed us.” Dean’s tone was apologetic.

 

You just patted the bed beside you and rolled back over, halfway to dreamland before you finished the motion. A hand wound into your hair and a body pressed to your back, the long hair brushing the back of your neck suggesting that it was Roman. You sighed contentedly when another body settled in front of you and tugged you into their chest.

 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you both safe.”

 

“Promise?” Roman whispered brokenly.

 

“Swear it, Manchovy. Shh, you jus’ cuddle up with them. I’ve got you guys.”

 

…

 

Dean watched silently as Roman slowly drifted off. You were already asleep in his arms, your nose mashed against his chest. That _couldn’t_ be comfortable, but it obviously wasn’t affecting your ability to sleep.

 

Whatever Roman’s dream had been about, it had clearly spooked him hard. He had been shaking and silently crying when he woke Dean up, the tears just _pouring_ down his face. “ _I need you. I need them. Please._ ” He had begged. “ _Can’t be alone right now. She’s so far away and I can’t be alone right now_.”

 

The moon had been enveloped in thick clouds at some point during the night, plunging the whole house into pitch black despite the skylights. _She’s so far away_.

 

Dean had tried to calm him down without having to wake you but Roman insisted that he needed the both of you, pleading until Dean caved in. Dean wasn’t exactly sure _why_ he picked Roman up; seemed right at the time. The larger man didn’t protest, practically burrowing into his chest instead.

 

Now here he was, in bed with you and Roman and Dean felt…strange. Not as though he was intruding, but like he was supposed to be here with the two of you. Dean Ambrose had never been much for _belonging_ ; through most of his life he had drifted from place to place with little regard for the people he interacted with.

 

It started to rain, the soft noise threatening to put him to sleep. You wriggled in his arms and Roman mumbled something, reaching over your shoulder to grab a fistful of Dean’s shirt. The tattooed man sighed, relaxing his grip after a moment or two. He didn’t let go, though.

 

Dean allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes.

 

…

 

You dreamed of deep, _deep_ water.

 

It stretched out for miles around you, beneath you. High above, the sun shone brilliantly through the waves. You felt vaguely worried about your lack of breathing apparatus, but then Roman appeared at your elbow without a sound. He cut through the water smoothly, his body a knife made of iridescent gold. You waved and he waved back, smiling and cupping your face.

 

He pressed his lips to yours and you somehow knew you could breathe safely. “ _I’ve been waiting for you._ ” Roman whispered. “ _Both of you._ ”

 

“ _You mean Dean and I?_ ”

 

“ _Yes_.” Roman touched his forehead to your own. “ _I’ve been waiting._ ”

 

Heat spread through your body, everything hot to the touch. You swore the water temperature around you was skyrocketing upwards.

 

Roman pulled back, smiling brightly and then vanishing into the depths--

 

A snore droned in your ear and you froze, your eyes flying open. Your face was pressed against Dean’s chest, his worn t-shirt soft on your cheek. You were halfway on top of him and his arm was draped over your hips. Another arm was wrapped around your shoulders, and when you turned your head you could just see Roman’s tattoo out of the corner of your eye. His body was tucked up to your side and his left arm was actually _under_ Ambrose’s head, pillowing it.

 

Their two large bodies sandwiching you _certainly_ explained the heat you felt.

 

You squirmed, trying to get comfortable, and then you stilled once more when Dean moaned your name softly. Well, if you hadn’t been blushing before, you certainly were now! You felt Roman shift his weight, a sigh ghosting across the back of your neck before lips pressed to the skin there.

 

“So beautiful…” Roman’s voice was deep with sleep. You weren’t even sure if he was actually awake. “Your song and his, together. I wanted there to be room for my harmony.” Another heavy sigh. “Even if there isn’t, I…I hope you’ll let me stay.”

 

He sounded so melancholy, you _had_ to let him know you had heard him. You carefully rolled over, Ambrose’s arm pinned beneath your body as you looked up at Roman. He mostly appeared pensive, ashamed, silver eyes dark when he made fleeting eye contact. “Hey.” You said gently.

 

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Roman muttered. “I should leave.”

 

Ambrose’s hand suddenly came to life, clamping down on Roman’s wrist. “Try again, Manchovy.” Dean yawned. “Both of us got cats outta’ the bag. Me n’ my big mouth, y’know.” He reached up to lazily play with your hair. “I’ve had so many dreams about this, havin’ you in my arms like this, kinda’ might have let somethin’ slip.” He seemed nonchalant, but you could feel the tension in his body. “What was all that you were sayin’ about a harmony?”

 

“Everyone has their song. I can hear it.” Roman began quietly. “Yours harmonizes with theirs, makes it better, _whole_. Their song was in pieces. Something awful happened. But you made it right again.”

 

You buried your face in Dean’s chest, thoroughly embarrassed that Roman had read you so easily. Dean sucked in a surprised breath, catching your chin with his hand. “Is that true?” He asked you, his voice rough. “Is what he sayin' true, sweetheart? Do you...do you feel like you're more whole aroun' me?”

 

“I...” You floundered for a response, trying to avoid his eyes. “There's more to it than that.” You finally admitted after hemming and hawing for several seconds. “I-I mean, that's the gist of it, b-but I shouldn't feel like that towards you! You've already dealt with enough, _too_ much even. I can't put myself into the mix on top of it all.”

 

“You _do_ feel somethin' for me?”

 

“I feel a lot of things.”

 

“You know what I mean.” Ambrose pleaded, “Don't do this to me, sweetheart. Don't hold out on me.”

 

“You've been so happy about Roman, though!” You cried. Roman made a breathless noise and Dean bit his lip. “I don't want to spoil anything for you, this is a _real_ chance. I...I think you guys could honestly be happy together. I know Roman's the proof you've been looking for, Dean. And...R-Roman, you could learn so much from Dean-”

 

“I could learn from you as well.” Roman murmured. “I could learn from both of you.”

 

“What, like the three of us? _Together?!_ ” Ambrose squawked over your head at the other man. “That's _kinda'_ a tall order, Roman. A lot t' ask someone for.”

 

“I would be good, I promise!” Roman replied earnestly.

 

“It ain't _your_ behavior I'm worried about, tuna ass! You're already a good b--” Dean stopped dead. “ _Friend_.” He stressed the word, clearing his throat. “A decent, fuckin' _naive_ person. I want to keep you safe, y'know? It's bad out there, man. You don't really understand how this shit works yet.”

 

“I do, I've been reading.” Roman's tone was solemn. “I have to go get a job in a coffee shop. If I have a job, that means I can help.”

 

You couldn't help your snicker. “A coffee shop, huh?”

 

“That seems to be where everyone else works.”

 

“What _have_ you been reading, I gotta’ know.”

 

“ _Things_.” Roman said haughtily.

 

“Your take on all this, sweetheart? Kinda’…kinda’ need some input.” Dean asked you, his fingers sliding casually over your hip. “You’re a vital part of this, y’know?”

 

“Right this second, I think we need breakfast.” You answered quickly, trying to buy some time to think.

 

“Sweetheart-”

 

“Look, I’m _scared_ , okay? I’m scared and nervous. It’s been years since I felt like dating anyone. I’m…I’m just being stupid, I know, but--”

 

“Is it me? Am I too scary?” Roman asked worriedly.

 

“It’s not you, I can promise you that. If anythin’, it’s a combo of me and the other guys they been with.” Dean explained for you. “ _I’m_ scary. You’re a fuckin’ teddy bear.”

 

“But you’re friends with them.” Roman pointed out.

 

“They been good to me.” Dean’s face softened. “Real good. Hell of a lot better than I deserve.”

 

“ _So!_ Who wants breakfast, huh?!” You squeaked, scrambling to flee the bed.

 

…

 

Roman, over the next few days, seemed to have decided to turn on the charm. It was one of the cutest things you had ever seen. You weren’t sure whether Ambrose was giving him pointers, but you had the sneaking suspicion that they were in cahoots. Dean was doing his best to keep his hands to himself when it came to you, his touches turning remarkably clinical and no-nonsense.

 

The three of you continued to sleep together at night though, settling in with Roman at your back and your body halfway on top of Dean’s chest. After nearly a week of the same sleeping arrangements, you woke up and realized that Roman had migrated to the other side of Dean. His cheek rested on Ambrose’s chest as if to mirror your position and his fingers were laced through yours, over Dean’s heart.

 

Your own heart clenched tightly at the sight of your two friends curled up into one another. You carefully untangled your fingers so you could stroke Roman’s face, his facial hair scraping your skin until it tingled. A fondness welled up in you and you kissed his forehead softly. Dean’s hold on you tightened and you glanced up. His gaze was unreadable, his mouth set in a firm line while he watched you watch him.

 

After a breathless moment, you leaned up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Dean inhaled sharply through his teeth. “No fair playin’ both sides, sweetheart.” He gritted out.

 

“I’m not.” You replied simply, resting your head on his chest again.

 

A second went by and then Dean carded his fingers through Roman’s hair. “Equal, then?”

 

You nodded, rubbing your nose against his shirt. “You smell nice.” You mumbled.

 

“Shh, y’ so tired you’re talkin’ nonsense.”

 

Roman whimpered suddenly in his sleep, drawing your attention to him. His whole body _rolled_ against Dean’s side and Ambrose grunted, giving you a startled look. The look quickly turned into a shit-eating grin when Roman breathed his name.

 

“Manchovy’s havin’ a nice dream, I guess.” He said nonchalantly.

 

“Guess so.” You wiggled your eyebrows and Dean barely stifled his laugh in time, his cheeks puffing out with the effort. “Should we wake him up before he creams himself?”

 

“So _vulgar_ , sweetheart.” Dean ran his fingers through Roman’s hair again, his expression softening. “Kinda’ wanna’ have him rub one out on me, not gonna’ lie.”

 

“You just want to tease him about it afterwards, you big bully.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Nah, this is pretty hot to me. Always been into that consensual som…somnophilia. I haven’t asked him about it though, so I ain’t touchin’ below the belt unless he’s conscious.” You lightly scraped your nails over his chest and Dean groaned quietly. “Now _you_ on the other hand…c’mere.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you up his body. “I think it’s about time we had a real fuckin’ kiss, don’t you agree?”

 

You craned your neck to kiss him, and then Roman’s fingers darted in to touch his mouth. Dean’s pupils expanded visibly even in the dim light, his breath shuddering in his chest. Roman hummed, tucking his face into Dean’s neck and pressing kisses to the skin there.

 

“You…You are _not_ fair.” Ambrose said weakly. “What a punk. You fuckin’ _mackerel_. Stealin’ my kiss.”

 

“Sticks and stones.” Roman retorted, smiling at you from across Dean’s chest. You smiled back, leaning to meet him halfway for a kiss. Dean groaned overhead and you took pity on him, breaking away to press a teasing peck to the underside of his chin. Ambrose moved at the last second to catch your lips with his own, grip tightening on your hip and making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. You whimpered and Roman reached out, his fingers tentatively brushing Dean’s on your hip.

 

Ambrose grabbed Roman’s hand and laced their fingers together, staring at the other man like he was seeing him for the first time. “Equals.” He whispered.

 

Roman nodded slowly. “Equals. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 

“What’d you wish for?” Dean asked breathlessly.

 

Roman hesitated and you shook your head at Dean. “He doesn’t have to say if he doesn’t want to.”

 

All Roman did was chuckle sadly. “I wished that I could run away. I was ready to die. I still had my wish, but I was…I was just so tired of living alone, _being_ alone. I figured if I asked to run away, that she would take me away. Instead…” He trailed off, swallowing hard.

 

“Sweetheart.” Dean murmured, and you felt his body shift. “Help me.”

 

“W--"

 

Dean _moved_ over you and you rolled with him, your whole body on top of Roman’s in a split second. Ambrose was above you, his arms propping him up on either side of Roman's head. Roman was strangely calm about it, watching the both of you with a curiosity that was entirely too endearing.

 

Dean mouthing at his neck got a lively reaction, though. Roman tossed his head with a gasp, his back arching off the bed and pressing his hips to yours without an inch of breathing room. “ _Oh-_ ” He choked out when you ground your pelvis down against his.

 

“That’s a _great_ look on him.” Dean breathed in your ear. “Great look on you too, sweetheart.”

 

“I…oh, _gods_. I can’t focus. M-mouth.” Roman stammered, whining when you kissed the underside of his jaw. “ _Hah_ , wait, wait.” He pressed his fingers to his lips, then touched your mouth shakily.

 

_**Good** _ _._

 

The word exploded in your head, a sensory overload of jumbled delight. Everything that he felt pinpointed into four letters that weren’t enough and yet _were_ , all at once. Tears pricked your eyes at the strength of emotion that he was experiencing, and you couldn’t help your laugh. “I’m glad.” You answered him out loud, and he smiled.

 

Dean rutted against your ass, leaning over your shoulder to kiss Roman sloppily. “This is the part where you get rid of those pants and let them touch you.” He whispered, “Let them make you feel fuckin' _fantastic_.”

 

“Touch me?” Roman asked, and you trembled when Dean snaked a hand down between your bodies to cup Roman through his sleeping pants.

 

“Yeah.  _ Touch _ you.”

 

“Can I touch you?” You asked Roman, loving the way his eyes flicked down to where Dean's hand was. “Like how Dean is touching you?”

 

“Oh, _please_.” Dean murmured, “Roman, let them touch you.” Roman bit his lip and you felt Dean's hand twitch, fingers digging into the sweatpants to give Roman's cock a languid pull. Roman's back arched again, his eyes going wide. “Let them touch you, huh? Be a good boy for us?”

 

“I can be good.” Roman promised dazedly. “P-Please, don't stop, _please_ -”

 

“Sweetheart, move down a little. Untie his pants.” You needed no further direction, sliding Roman's pants down around his knees and rocking back into Ambrose. Dean hissed through his teeth as you ground against the obvious swell of his dick momentarily, before returning your attention to Roman.

 

Roman's cock was already slick and hard, twitching in your hand. His pajama pants were actually damp from the amount of precome he was leaking. You wondered at that for a split second. _Is that from us?_ You didn't think you were that impressive, but Roman _had_ ground up against you a few times...

 

Dean tugged lightly at your panties. “Can I touch you, sweetheart?”

 

“You'd better be planning on doing more than that, Ambrose.” You shot back flippantly, smiling when he laughed.

 

Roman moaned loudly, his fingers tangling in your hair while you stroked his cock. Dean egged you on, whispering filthy things in your ear. “You know you want that cock, get him to fuckin’ explode sweetheart, paint your fuckin’ stomach with his come, he wants to fuck you and he doesn’t even know how the fuck to do it but he _wants_ you, ” he rambled, two fingers lazily dipping in and out of your pussy.

 

You rocked back, desperate for more, but Ambrose kept pulling away. “Dean-”

 

“Put your mouth on him. Make him fuckin’ _scream_.” Dean ordered, sending a burning thrill through your body.

 

You nodded eagerly and Roman writhed underneath you, slamming his hands down to clench in the sheets when you lapped sloppily up the side of his cock. He didn’t disappoint as you did your best to take his healthy-sized cock into your mouth, his voice pitching down to crack in a lower register with a breathless, guttural “ _Gods._ ”

 

“Heh, that’s what I like to hear.” Dean purred, rewarding you by rolling his index over your clit. “You let ‘em know, Roman. Don’t hold back.”

 

Roman covered his face, clearly overwhelmed. “It's so good, _please_ , please-” He begged, crooning helplessly in his throat when Ambrose wrapped his fingers around the portion of his cock that you couldn't fit into your mouth. “ _Oh!_ Gods, I just...I just...” Roman fell silent, his hips twitching. That was all the warning you had before he was coming hard down your throat, the dark-haired man propping himself up and shuddering bodily with the effort. 

 

You had to back off, your ability to breathe in sudden jeopardy. You rested your cheek on Roman's thigh once you had swallowed, watching his cock throb in Dean's grip. Ambrose seemed practically  _thrilled_ , able to eke a few more thick shots out of Roman's dick before he let him go. Roman was still shivering, his hair hiding his face as he gasped for breath and come continued to sluggishly drip down the sides of his cock.

 

“You're so beautiful.” You murmured to Roman, who gave you a startled look through his hair.

 

“I think _gorgeous_ , but you're entitled to your own opinion.” Dean shrugged, laughing when Roman looked even more flabbergasted. “No one's ever told you you're pretty? Their fuckin' loss.”

 

“Want...more.” Roman panted finally.

 

“I _bet_ you do. You wanna’ let him fuck you, sweetheart?” Dean asked, continuing to rut aimlessly against the small of your back. “Wanna’ fuck him until he blows his load?” Roman groaned at Dean’s voice, his cock twitching on his stomach. Recovery time was apparently not an issue for him, you mused hazily. “He’s bein’ so good for you, didn’t even try to choke you with that fuckin’ huge dick, think you can fit him in sweetheart?”

 

“I’ll try. I’ll do my best.” You promised, rubbing your legs together in a futile search for something to soothe the ache inside you.

 

“Good. Hey, roll over Roman. I'll show you what to do, okay?” Dean assured the other man, easing you down onto the bed. “Look at this ass, perfect.”

 

Roman straddled your body, looking down at you seriously. You smiled up at him and he smiled back after a second, cupping your cheek.

 

“Oh you are _great_.” Dean rasped in satisfaction, his arms wrapping around Roman's thick midsection. Roman arched his back and Dean swore, one hand moving to fist Roman's cock. “ _Fuck_ , he is fuckin' _slick_ sweetheart. Jesus Christ, he wants us. Wants you.” 

 

Roman buried his face in the side of your neck, sobbing out “ _both of you_ ” against the skin there. His hips jumped and strained in the air between your bodies; you could feel the muscles in his thighs tense against the insides of your legs. You raised your head to watch Dean work Roman's cock, the light-haired man's mouth pressed to Roman's ear and no doubt gifting him with his very own sweet nothings. You began to stroke Roman's hair soothingly and he dropped to buck against you, the raw power of his body shifting you up the bed. “Are you alright, Roman? Is this okay?” You barely managed the query, breathless from that display.

 

“ _More_.” Roman rumbled, his voice cracking. His cock slid over your pussy. You were thoroughly soaked yourself at this point, easing the friction of his skin on yours. “I should ask, right? Asking- _hah_ , gods, _Dean_ \--asking is important.” Roman muttered thickly, propping himself up on one shaking arm so he could make proper eye contact with you. “Can I...?”

 

…

 

Roman's stomach felt tight and hot. His skin was soaked with sweat, every stroke of Dean's hand dragging some embarrassing sound out of him. You were underneath him, waiting, waiting, your song singing an intoxicating melody to his frenzied senses. Your body was wet like his own, ready, ready, but the asking needed to happen before he could continue.

 

Roman pressed his fingers to his mouth and then touched your lips, his thumb dragging your lower lip down clumsily. You smiled up at him, touching his mouth with your own fingers and nodding your head. Strangely, Roman heard your song even louder now, melting into Dean's.

 

_Yes_ , you were saying,  _yes Roman_ . 

 

Roman shifted awkwardly over you, whimpering when the motion moved Dean away. Ambrose palmed his rear, humming quietly and letting Roman get properly situated. “This is a lot of trust right here. Don't fuckin' burn it.” He warned, and then he pressed a kiss to the small of Roman's back. “Be good to them, Roman.”

 

Roman nodded fiercely, his forehead resting against your own as you took his cock in your hand and guided him into you. Ambrose had told him a few things, tried to help him as best as he could, but nothing could have fully prepared him for this sensation. All the breath left his lungs in a single exhale, and Roman felt as though he was hanging in midair for an eternity.

 

You whimpered when he finally,  _finally_ stopped sliding in. Roman worriedly pressed his fingers to your mouth,  _alright? Are you alright?_

 

“It's been so long, oh _God_ Roman.” You moaned, your hands grabbing his shoulders. “You're so big-”

 

“Be careful. Just go slow.” Dean murmured, splaying his palms on Roman's thighs and gently easing him back against his own body. “They'll get used to you, but you need to give them time.” Roman nodded shakily in reply, letting Ambrose guide him into a smooth rocking motion, back and forth. “That's it, like that.”

 

“So good to me.” You gasped, mouthing over his neck in a gesture of what appeared to be thanks. Roman threw his head back, loving the feeling of you nipping at the skin of his throat.

 

“Alright, deep now.” Dean urged, rolling his hips. Roman obeyed breathlessly, watching your face as you cried out. “ _God_ , you're both so fuckin' pretty.” Dean sounded dazed, his voice a ragged whisper. “So fuckin' pretty.”

 

You were so wet, so  _hot_ , it felt incredible to Roman. He tried to go slow, deep like he was told, but he knew he wouldn't last long. Not with the pressure in his stomach building how it was, twisting and begging for release. “Dean.” He said through gritted teeth. Ambrose's fingers raked through his hair, sending a sharp throb of arousal down Roman's spine. 

 

“Yes, handsome?”

 

“You need to-” Dean tugged on his hair again and Roman gasped, Ambrose pulling him back just in time to spurt his load all over your stomach. Dean's hand wrapped around his cock and gave him a few slow, careful pulls, Roman groaning at the feeling and then ducking to kiss you. You welcomed him, squirming and whining into his mouth.

 

Roman's legs hadn't stopped quivering and Dean eased him onto his side, rubbing his thigh comfortingly. “Take a break, Manchovy.”

 

“I want to sleep.” Roman slurred, suddenly exhausted. You took his hand and kissed his knuckles, smiling sweetly at him.

 

“You did so good, love. Thank you.”

 

_Love_ . Roman's throat felt tight and he rumbled with satisfaction despite his weariness, squeezing your hand in reply.

 

…

 

Dean slid his fingers through the mess Roman had made on your stomach, startled when you caught his hand. “Are you going to finish me off,  _sweetheart?_ ” You asked softly, licking his fingers clean afterwards. 

 

Dean choked on a breath. “If...I mean, I wouldn't  _mind_ .” He stammered, already struggling out of his shirt. 

 

“I definitely don't mind. Was kind of hoping for it, honestly.” The words Dean had wanted to hear for so long, traipsing out of you without a care in the world.

 

_If this is a dream, nobody wake me up._ “Sweetheart, I... _shit_ , for  _ages_ now. I jus' didn't wanna' hurt you.”

 

“Thank you for being so patient with me.” His sweetheart, _God_. You were so _sweet_ you were giving him a toothache. Dean fumbled to get his boxers out of the way, a little embarrassed about how hard he was. But hell, watching Roman give you his all like a hormonal teenager had riled him up. You still hadn't gotten off yet, and he aimed to fix that. 

 

Dean had you roll over onto your stomach, your head turned to the side so your cheek rested on the pillow. “Jus' relax. I'll go slow, promise.” His throat felt too dry.

 

You caught his hand before he could continue, and Roman's fingers draped on top to connect the three of you. “I love you.” You said simply. “Both of you.”

 

_Love_ .

 

Roman dragged himself upright, kissing the tips of his own fingers and then extending them to Dean in the now-familiar gesture. Ambrose leaned into the touch, shell-shocked at what you had just said. And then music poured into his head, everything blurred and focused all at once.  _The song Roman mentioned_ . It was beautiful, unlike anything Ambrose had ever heard in his life, and  _complete_ . Harmony and melody, the notes crashing over one another in waves of pinpointed, sated joy. 

 

With you at the heart of it all, begging him not to stop. Dean fucked down into you breathlessly, Roman urging him on with his hands in Dean's hair and his mouth pressed to Dean's ear, their roles thoroughly reversed. “ _Be good to them, be gentle to them_ .”

 

Everything in the world ground to a halt when you came around him, screaming his name into the pillow. Dean bared his teeth, snarling wildly. This made it all worth it. All the lonely nights, every beating he'd endured, the years of telling himself he was going to be alone because he was broken and  _wrong_ inside...it all melted away into the form of you saying his name, Roman rumbling in his chest and that song, that  _song_ . 

 

“I love you, sweetheart.” Dean choked out. “Love you, Roman.”

 

“More than anything.” Roman agreed.

 

…

 

“So.” Dean cleared his throat, his voice rasping badly. “That was...somethin'.” You nodded from your spot on his chest, sighing. Beside you, the sprawled-out Roman grunted his agreement. “We're a real group of fuckin' weirdos, ain't we?”

 

“You got it.” Your body was still alight with electricity. You hadn't been so well-fucked in _years_ ; you were tingling in places you'd forgotten about.

 

“The weirdest.” Roman mumbled, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “Is that alright?”

 

“Kinda' my wheelhouse, Roman.” Dean was silent for a few minutes, almost long enough for you to drift off. Then, “You guys uh, wanna' come with me up to Canada next week? Stake out the best Sasquatch spot I know of?”

 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

 

“What's Canada?”

 


End file.
